Silence Beyond Words
by Normero-Benzo
Summary: Norma Calhoun is the new girl in town. Extremely shy and the typical quiet nerd walking the crowded halls of White Pine Bay High. Then, she meets the infamous Alexander Romero, the hot and popular Quarterback, known for breaking all the rules and a couple of hearts. Could this new, strange but unique girl change his ways? (Normero)
1. Same Old Ways

Being the new kid has never been easy no matter where you are. Norma Calhoun knew that. It wasn't easy the first time nor the tenth time either. Eating breakfast and lunch alone was her specialty. Making friends and being social was not an option. You learn these things when it's crucial that you shield yourself against getting even more damaged. Packing your things yearly didn't sound as exciting as her mom made it out to be in the beginning. It was torture. It was nothing but pure torture.

Deep down Norma yearns this would be the last time they relocate thanks to her mother's wicked and life-ruining job. Her career as a Construction and Building Manager had Norma being yanked back and forth for years. She frequently portrayed herself as a rag doll. One that was being manipulated by her mother to her own demands and hopeful future intentions. They never stay in one place for more than twelve months at a time.

Francine Calhoun was successful. No doubt about that. Being a woman in a men's world demanded more exertion and overcompensation than most jobs. Norma knows how challenging it's been for her mother and how hard she strived to obtain the status she has today.

Norma thinks back on the very first day she stepped foot into White Pine Bay. How wretched and isolated it was. Almost as lonely as her. It was nothing compared to her old town in San Francisco. Oregon's ambiance was dull and cold. A vibrant but awful combination. The air dense and overwhelming. The sky hazy and the sun nowhere to be found.

How is it possible to go from sunny San Francisco to… _this? _

"You know I have no control over this, Louise," her mother had said. She hates when she calls her by her middle name. Her mother's tone always sharp but scolding.

"I just want to stay in one place for a change, ma," Norma whined. Fran lifts her gaze over her reading glasses, locking eyes with her daughter.

"Maybe this one is it, honey," she had stated, going back to her paperwork. "Maybe this one is it."

They both strongly aspire to stay and settle warmly into a cozy and gracious house they'll learn to call home.

"Where the hell is White Pine Bay anyway?" Norma had asked as she fixed her glasses. Her pointer finger and thumb grazing the metal of her glasses, adjusting their position. Her frail body inclining innocently against the door frame of her mother's studio, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Language," her mother scolded curtly without raising her gaze. Her eyes browsed gracefully the computer in front of her. "Right above us. Oregon," she finally responded.

But as Norma scans her outfit for her first day of Senior year on her full-length mirror, she doubts that White Pine Bay would be _it. _This town seemed outdated and monotonous. Not that she was very social herself, that was evident, but she really hopes that they won't force her mom to stay permanently at a place like this.

Although she doesn't have the best attitude about the circumstances, she tries her best not to complain too much. Nevertheless, this was her job, and her mother had no control over it. What Vincent says, goes. He's Francine's boss. A millionaire that moves them around the states as he pleases and what Norma hates the most is that her mother is not allowed to say no.

"Honey! Breakfast is ready!" her mom magically brings her back to earth. She takes a glance at the digital clock settled on her nightstand. _7:34 am. _She has a little over thirty minutes to get to school. She rolls her eyes at her mother's perpetually impatience.

"I'll be down in a second!" she yells back.

Norma takes one last judgmental glimpse at herself. Khaki jeans. White polo. An olive green cardigan and black flats. Her attire screaming _nerd _in every form under the sun.

Looking back at herself she starts to question if things will be different this time around. She adjusts her glasses and runs a hand through her bangs. Her strawberry blonde hair is clipped back with a minute beige clamp. She looks like someone who spends ampere-hours in a library. She hates not having much sense of fashion or acknowledgment of the new and catchy trend.

As much as she tries to hide it, she can't conceal the need for human attention. It was a personal choice not to make friends, though. To not talk to anyone in a school that was only temporary to her. Walking through those crowded hallways alone was no big deal. She was fine alone. She couldn't make friends. She wouldn't dare. Why waste time making stimulating conversation with her classmates when their friendship already had an expiration date?

Without noticing it, her mother's career created this isolated Norma and not for the better. She often thought of many ways to accuse her mother. To scream at the top of her lungs how bad it's been for her. How alone she feels. But her mother was never oblivious to it.

"Are you making friends?" she had asked Norma over dinner. It was their first week in Nebraska.

"No."

Francine breathed. "Honey, I think-"

"Why bother? We're moving next year. Been there, done that. I'm not making that mistake again."

"You can at least try to have a social life. Be more outgoing."

Norma flashed her a harsh look. "_More outgoing?_" she parroted back to her dubious mother.

"Yes, Louise. Go out. Make friends! You're fifteen. You don't do anything else other than school and hideout at the library."

"I have homework to do and tests to study for," Norma responded confidently. "I don't have time to do anything else."

"I know, sweetheart. And I appreciate what you're doing to keep your grades up. I know it's hard to keep up with everything. Some schools are more advanced than others."

"You don't," Norma declared as she played with her food. "You don't know how hard it is."

Things were different now. She was older, it was her last year of high school, and she was still stuck in the same ball game. No friends. She wouldn't dare to make new ones or meet new people. She was still the same lame 'new girl' everywhere she goes, and she's still counting on Vincent to not ruin her life yet again at least until after graduation.

Homeschool seemed perfect for Norma. But for her mother? Not so much.

"I'm not getting you homeschooled, Norma," her mother had growled stubbornly.

"Why not!? It'd be the same thing I'm doing now. Just not going to an _actual_ school. I won't stop studying, mom. You know that. Nothing would change! This way it'd be easier for both of us, don't you think?"

"I'm not isolating you from society on purpose," she snapped. "I'm not. So, you have to put up with it, and that is it. End of discussion."

She ran out of options and reasons to try to make her mother come to her senses. Nothing ever worked. It's like she wanted her to be friendless and an outcast on purpose.

And now, her stomach's in knots, unintendedly generating a greater pain, foolishly reminding her of her torture over and over again. She feels this way every time she's to step foot into a new school. Every time she walks into a classroom and all eyes are on her. Or when she walks into the always awfully crowded cafeteria. Or the gym. Or the hallway. Or the bathroom. Or the library, even.

But she plans to continue doing what she does best — flying under the radar. Not making eye contact with anyone and getting super early to her classes to avoid unfamiliar and uncanny looks from her now new and judgemental classmates. She would sit at the very back. It gives everyone a limited opportunity to criticize her. The desk at the very back. It always worked.

"You're going to be late, honey," Francine announces when she feels Norma's presence in the kitchen. The minute she looks at her, she does a double take. "You-you're wearing that?"

Norma, standing near the fridge, questioningly studies her outfit. "What's wrong with this?"

"Nothing, hun," she smiles politely. "You look perfect."

"Mom."

"I just-I thought you would wear one of those cute outfits we bought during the summer."

"I am," she points at her cardigan.

Fran gives her a knowing look. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, no. I know what you mean," Norma responds smartly. "You want me to look less like me and more like the rest."

"That's not what I want, and you know that, Louise," Fran sighs, turning her back on Norma, her full attention back to the frying pan.

"I wish you would stop calling me Louise," Norma huffs, annoyed at her mother for criticizing her this early in the morning.

They eat in silence. Norma not up for small talk over breakfast with her mother. She's done this once too many times. Her infamous talk about how she should make friends on her first day of school. On how she should find someone to sit with at lunch. Norma wants to get this day over with. It already feels exhausting and longspun.

"I'm working late tonight," Francine breaks the ice. Norma just nods her head in response, her eyes fixed on her orange juice. "Be good, okay? Good luck today, kiddo."

Her mother stands, seizing her plate and reaching for Norma's. She roams around the table, scrutinizing her daughter's troubled expression. Her heart breaks for her. She plants a kiss on the crown of her daughter's head. If she could do something to fix this for her, she would.

"Do you need a ride?" she waits for Norma to respond. She's still standing next to her holding their dirty plates. Norma looks up at her mother with huge, sharp blue eyes that plead for escapism.

"I can walk. It's down the road," Norma says. Her tone of voice heavy and charged with nothing else than ample discouragement.

Francine nods. "Okay. I love you."

Norma allows herself to smile. "I love you too, mom."

Francine kisses her head again, walking back to the kitchen sink.

"I gotta go," her mom says. "Call me if you need anything."

"Yes, ma'am," she sighs, wishing she had other people to call and not only her mother.

Norma lets out a deep breath as soon as her mother walks out the front door. The alarm system indicating that the front door had been opened. She takes a look around at the mess her mother left behind and is quick to remove her cardigan to start cleaning. She hates a dirty kitchen.

After leaving the kitchen spotless, she gathers her stuff and is ready to head out and get this awful, nerve-racking day over with.


	2. White Pine Bay High

Norma held onto the straps of her book bag with more strength than necessary. She wished she didn't live so close to school so that she would have given herself more time to think. To breathe. Now, she stood on the sidewalk opposite from the crowded building, near a tree, large enough for her to hide behind all day if she wanted. She couldn't believe she was doing this again.

She scrutinized the school from afar. A modest building that looked nothing like her other schools. This one seemed as if it could only hold about two hundred kids inside its walls, not more, not less.

Another thing she wasn't used to. You had an advantage when the structure had more than four buildings. It's easy to hide among the huge crowds and go unnoticed when the student body reaches absurdly the high numbers. Not this. This school was smaller than that one house she got to live in for a couple of months in upstate New York.

She looked around, eager to spot another newbie on plain sight. She could recognize them in a second. They weren't much different from her in a way. Like her, they also looked like outsiders. Completely lost and yearning, deep inside, that they could fit in. Not Norma, though. She's done this far too many times to care. She's past that point. Way over it. She wasn't here to make friends. Or to have fun. She's an expert on that, and she had her mother and Vincent to blame.

Norma lets out a profound sigh when she's unable to find another outcast in the rough. She can't be the only one, can she? But Norma had such bad luck that she wouldn't be surprised if she's the only newbie of the bunch.

Norma planted one foot in front of the other and marched her way inside the unfamiliar territory. She's done this a million times. The closer she gets to the entrance, the less apprehensive she feels. She could sense the anxiousness leaving her body with every step she takes._ 'Come on, Norma. You can do this. It's a piece of cake_,' she tells herself. Indeed it is. A really dry, but also mushy, piece of cake.

The front doors are wide open, and her nose instantly distinguishes the methodical scent of White Pine Bay High. Every school has its own distinguished aroma, she likes to think. She remembers her school in San Francisco always had that fall and pumpkin-ish fragrance. It was always clean and crisp. The one in Nebraska and New York were pretty similar, too. North Dakota smelled of fresh cut grass all the time, and she hated it. Georgia had a rich combination of lupins and bad hair spray. But White Pine Bay? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The halls were graciously brightened thanks to the numerous windows circling the building instead of concrete. Norma admired that it gave the school a more serene ambiance. It looked more open and less compressed. She's always loved areas with a lot of windows.

Norma follows the small crowd, students forming a single file line. She peeks and sees the large sign that reads 'PICK UP YOUR SCHEDULE HERE' in long blue letters. She gets in line and patiently waits for her turn. No one's paying attention to her yet, and she likes it although she is sure that she won't be able to fly under the radar for much longer.

"Name?" the older lady with crooked, lipstick-stained teeth demanded once she got in front of the line.

"Norma Calhoun," she spoke softly.

The old lady found her schedule rather quickly and handed it to her. She showed her yellow teeth, smiling broadly at Norma before yelling 'Next!' over Norma's shoulder.

Stepping out and away from the old lady's glare, Norma unfolded the neatly presented paper. A quiet squeak left her throat as she scanned her schedule eagerly and with much joy.

**White Pine Bay High School**

**1622 Valley Ln,**

**White Pine Bay, OR 97086**

**WELCOME**

**S•E•N•I•O•R•S**

**CLASS OF 2019**

**Student Name: Calhoun, Norma L.**

**Student I.D.#: 542808078**

**Lunch: B**

**Locker #: 9614**

**Class Schedule:**

**First Period: Trigonometry**

**Second Period: AP English 4**

**Third Period: U.S. Government**

**Fourth Period: Calculus A/B**

**LUNCH**

**Fifth Period: Human Anatomy and Physiology**

**Sixth Period: Environmental Science**

**Seventh Period: Art**

"Yes!" she whispered to herself. She got every single class she had chosen at the beginning of summer via mail.

"These are difficult subjects, honey," her mother had commented after seeing her daughter's uncommonly schedule for someone her age. Norma nearly scoffed at her mother's simplicity.

"No, they're not. All I really need is three more credits to complete my entire semester. I could graduate early if I feel like it. These classes are just for fun," she had responded wildly. "They pretty much forced me to take an Elective. Art sounded better than P.E., in my opinion."

Francine laughed. "Seriously!?"

Norma grinned widely. "What? You know I'm not athletic. I can unleash my imagination and express my anger and turmoil on a white canvas way better than on a field."

Francine had rolled her eyes but managed to smile at her daughter. "Always so dramatic."

"Wonder where I get it from."

Norma smiled at the memory. She didn't mind that her mother knew close to nothing about the importance of these subjects. How good it looked on College applications. She was happy, though, with her daughter's 4.0 GPA.

The classes were divided into small sections. Half of her classes seemed to be on the second floor. The classroom numbers were recorded at the bottom of her page, and Norma thanked the Heavenly Father for such a feature. She'd hate to have to wander around like a lost puppy looking for a needle in a haystack.

The lockers are in plain sights, like in every other school. Norma started her search hunt, eager to find her own before the last bell rung. She didn't want to deal with jammed hallways on top of all the locker slamming that always occurs before class.

More than anything, she didn't want to overhear how fantastic everyone's summer was. The latest gossip or how fast the couple of the year replaced one another in a blink of an eye before July. These types of conversations amongst girls, most of the time, were always out on display as if everyone else had the right to put in their two cents.

She wanted to hear none of that. Norma Calhoun needed to find her Trigonometry classroom before all hell breaks loose.

"Aha!" she mumbles lowly, spotting her locker from afar. That side of the continuous hallway was practically deserted. She made work of her locker combination and flew it open with much grace.

After taking her binder out of her bag, she settled her book bag inside the clean locker, taking out of it two pencils and one pen. She is quick to place them inside the pocket of her cardigan, seizing her schedule.

She compressed the light pink binder to her chest. Her left hand keeping it secured and steady upon her body. Her right hand clutching her schedule tightly. Her eyes scan for room 221, and she smiles sumptuously the second she spots her designated class.

"Here we go," she tells herself. She takes a deep breath as the rest of the student body roamed around her down the corridor.

"Let's have a good day," the tone of her voice skeptical and weary. "You got this. It's not the first time you do this. And it's certainly not the last."


	3. Massie Block

Norma sat at the very back, the last desk shoved in the corner, closest to the windows and grisly cabinets. She discovered from her previous school that it was best to sit away from everyone, where no one cares enough to give you a second look.

Class was about to start and she enjoyed watching, more like examining, her classmates' fashion choices as they strolled through the open door. She wasn't surprised to see so many girls wearing nothing but tight jeans and crop tops. Some of them with rain jackets tied around their waist.

Majority of them rocked high-waisted jeans and white chucks. What Norma couldn't quite get is why they believed it was a good idea to wear sunglasses inside campus. She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they look. But this is what society calls _cool_. If that's how being cool looks like, she doesn't want it.

Every girl had a full face of make-up. Their eyes batting fake lashes this early in the morning. Their sequenced bags blinding everyone, including that shiny, colored product settled firmly on the tip of their nose and cheeks.

It's always amusing to see how much these schools have in common. Girls never being themselves and dressing to impress and bullying others if they don't look like the rest. It doesn't matter where you go, it was always the same outcome.

It's safe to say that she's a broken piece in this large puzzle she'll never be able to fit in. She's like a cheerio inside this world of lucky charms or colorful Fruity Pebbles. Norma shuffled uncomfortably in her desk as a redhead, wearing a cheerleader uniform and gigantic bow on her head, strolled in.

_'Is this Stacey from Nebraska?' _Norma asked herself. _'Or the Samantha from San Francisco?'_

Popular. The girls with the most followers on social media and in school. The typical cheerleader with hundreds of admirers and a thousand of people to please. _'Yes. This is the Stacey and Samantha of White Pine Bay,'_ she confirms lightly to herself.

Her smile was huge and her cheer skirt way too short. The group of girls that strolled behind her immediately reminded Norma of that movie called '_The Clique'. _

The one where Massie Block thinks she owns the school and everything she says, goes. Every girl wanted to be friends with Massie. Everyone wanted to impress Massie. And then Norma realized that this beautiful redhead had nothing on Stacey and Samantha. This redhead was solely Massie Block.

"Settle down, everyone!" Mr. Mullier exalted, his tone of voice dictating respect. Norma liked him already. "Find your seats. Class is about to start."

But no one other than Norma heard his commands. They were too busy talking among each other, hugging and exchanging photo's of their perfect summer together. Then she felt it. As much as she was trying not to, she felt lonely. She didn't have any of that. She couldn't share with anyone anything at all because there's never been anyone to share things with.

She looked away from the bunch, opening her binder and placing her two pens and pencil on her desk. She wrote the date on the left corner of her sheet of paper, writing in big letter's her name and 'TRIGONOMETRY NOTES' right underneath.

Norma fixed her glasses and whirled around, facing away from the cool kids. Learning that they're everything she'll never be. But despised how disagreeable it looks and feels, she's made peace with that. She's Norma Calhoun and she was happy with the way she was.

The classroom shrieked as the bell yelped furiously, indicating the students that it was time to stop fooling around. Norma sighed contentedly, glad to no longer hear how _Massie Block_ got a new BMW as an early graduation present.

"Life must be so hard for you," Norma said under her breath. She couldn't quite get how someone could be so mundane-so fake. It only took one look at her to have her all figured out. She was the typical brat, probably an only child, that got whatever she wanted. _Shocker_.

"Alright, folks! Take your seats!" Mr. Mullier demands once again. Norma looks up and finds him talking to the same group of people that Norma had been silently judging. "Ms. Hamilton! Please put your make-up away. This is not a beauty salon."

Massie Block spins around, clutching her small mirror and lipstick in hand. She just smiled in response as she continued to put on her red lipstick all over her lips.

'_Yuck!_' Norma thinks to herself. '_So rude. At least Massie Block had some class_.'

Half of the class laughed with her. Being disrespectful towards her eldest is a big no-no for Norma. Especially her teachers. She found herself disliking this artificial, wannabe posse more and more by the minute.

'_Thank God this is only temporary. I give Vincent three months tops to call. If not, I'll call him myself_,' she thinks. There was something about White Pine Bay that she didn't like. And these disrespectful spoiled brats, all with a stick up their asses, were making it even easier for her to make up her mind about this shallow town.

After seeing Mr. Mullier struggle for a while, everyone finally settled down. He started teaching and Norma wrote down every little detail that she thought would help her in the long run.

_8/23/18_

_Norma C._

_TRIGONOMETRY NOTES_

_**Defining relations** for tangent, cotangent, secant, and cosecant in terms of sine and cosine. _

_**The Pythagorean formula for sines and cosines.** This is probably the most important trig identity. _

_**Identities expressing trig functions in terms of their complements.** There's not much to these. Each of the six trig functions is equal to its co-function evaluated at the complementary angle. _

_**Periodicity of trig functions.** Sine, cosine, secant, and cosecant have period 2π while tangent and cotangent have period π. _

_**Identities for negative angles.** Sine, tangent, cotangent, and cosecant are odd functions while cosine and secant are even functions. _

**_Ptolemy's identities, the sum and difference formulas for sine and cosine._**_ **Double angle formulas for sine and cosine.** Note that there are three forms for the double angle formula for cosine. You only need to know one, but be able to derive the other two from the Pythagorean formula._

Norma's about the only one listening to Mr. Mullier but he doesn't seem to mind. Norma glanced down to scribble something on her notes when suddenly the classroom door bolted open.

"IS EVERYONE HERE LIVING THEIR BEST LIFE!?" A tall, maybe athletic, skinny boy screams at the top of his lungs. Surprisingly, everyone opted to keep their mouths shut.

"Noah!" The guy following behind him scolded through gritted teeth as he shut the door after him.

"Mr. Scott, do you want to spend the rest of your day in ISS?" A very calmed Mr. Mullier offers, clearly used to this boy's shenanigans.

"Be a true homie and let this one slide, Mr. M!" Noah exalts with much enthusiasm. Norma allowed herself to smile a little, liking the boy's eagerness this early in the morning.

"Find your seat," Mr. Mullier demanded, giving up and turning to the boy behind Mr. Scott.

"I'm sorry we're late," the dark-haired boy said, handing the teacher a pink note. "Here's my excuse."

Mr. Mullier gladly took it from his hands, turning to Noah who at the moment, continued to struggle to find his seat.

"Mr. Scott?"

"At your service!" he exclaimed after finishing what seemed to be an uncommon handshake with one of the others students.

"Where is your excuse?"

Noah smiled widely, showing full teeth. "Don't be silly! You're holding it!"

"I am holding Mr. Romero's note. Where is yours?"

Norma couldn't wait to see what Noah had to say. She was eager to hear his response.

"See, what had happened was-"

Mr. Mullier interrupted him immediately, rudely cutting him off.

"Never mind," he said mostly to himself. "Find your seat."

Noah saluted his teacher, a wide smile still planted on his face as he marched to his designated desk. The class finally found his attitude quite entertaining, a couple of students laughing at the boy's silliness.

The other boy, Noah's company, was still standing close to the teacher's desk, waiting for him to sign his pink slip.

"I'll do it before class ends," Mullier explained to the tanned boy with light brown eyes, fuller eyebrows and dark, long eyelashes. "Find your seat, Romero."

"Yes, sir."

Norma heeded his every move, finding the tall boy quite interesting. As expected, she scrutinized his choice of wardrobe, admiring that he seemed adequate and down to earth, more than half of the guys inside this cold, tiny room, anyways.

But as he walked towards the back of the room, on the opposite end of Norma, she noticed something different about him. He was cordial and greeted everyone with the same nod and smile. Never cocky or arrogant. The rest of Norma's classmates were eager to high-five him as he walked past them as if he was indeed a celebrity of some kind.

He wore dark wash jeans with a gray t-shirt underneath, lightly covered by a navy blue leather jacket; the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You could see how soft his dark hair is from afar. He has a gentle smile, one that could get him out of trouble if he wanted.

Norma can't peel her eyes off him. He's awfully attractive, too. Nothing compared to all the buffoons inside these four walls. She doesn't know if it's his attitude what caught her eye, but there is definitely something different about him.

She groans under her breath, annoyed with herself for staring too long. So what if she found him attractive. She has eyes. She can look.

Norma chose not to let the rest of the class distract her, she have got to get her work done. After almost an hour of exquisite and straightforward knowledge for Norma, Mr. Mullier had already assigned homework for the following day, earning loud groans in discontent.

With fifteen minutes to spare before class ended, Norma took it upon herself to start working on the assignment Mr. Mullier had designated for them. She always liked to get a head-start on all her tasks.

The classroom suddenly converts into this loud and obnoxious place, extremely noisy compared to what it was before Mr. Mullier finished teaching his lesson. They didn't have to sit still, or listen to an older man talk about the so-called significance of Trigonometry.

Norma could barely focus due to the commotion her thoughtless and relentless classmates were creating. She'd be surprised if someday they learn how to behave. But then again, they were all Seniors and Seniors lose some sense of morality once they reach this atrocious yet exciting stage in their lives.

Deep down Norma yearned she had the courage to introduce herself. To let them know that she's not invisible and that she wants to be known. To be heard. But she'd only be fooling herself. She's not that courageous nor bold. It's almost as impossible as asking a blind person to walk your dog.

Wanting desperately for the bell to ring, she glanced up, daring time to move a lot quicker than usual. But the minute she gazed down, she felt something. A pair of eyes on her. She had the suspicious feeling of someone staring at her. Sighing softly, she raised her gaze, turning her head to the side and finding that attractive, dark-haired boy staring deeply at her.

Their eyes locked for longer than what Norma would have wanted, and she was quick to look away, directing her eyes back on her paper. Her shoulders go rigid and she could feel her heart hammering furiously against her chest. The beating was so impenetrable that she could feel it in her throat.

She's used to this. To people staring. But she didn't like that he'd be the one staring. Ever since she stepped foot into this class, no one's taken one look at her. It's normal. That's usually how it goes. And to be honest, she'd preferred it that way sometimes. It would make her less anxious and she'd go on about her day.

Her left hand suddenly cupped her cheek and she fairly relaxed her head on it, facing away from everyone, including him. She started shaking her left leg, a nervous habit she's never been able to hide, doesn't matter how hard she tries.

The need to look up and see if he was still staring at her was immense. She couldn't believe she didn't break eye contact right away. Her eyes lingered on his for more than necessary and she hated herself for it.

"Who is that girl?" Alexander Romero, the dark-haired boy with light brown eyes asked. Noah looked at him and found him staring at the girl sitting near the cabinets wearing flats and a green cardigan.

"How would I know?" he told him as he shrugged his shoulders. "I've never seen her around."

But Alex continued to stare. He's never seen her before and for some reason, he was intrigued. Never in his life has he ever seen eyes that blue, either. He looked down at the nervous way she continued to bounce her leg and grinned a little.

It wasn't until everyone dispersed to their own little corners and selected groupies that he was able to spot her. She was the only one secluded from the rest of the students and his heart broke for her.

"What? You're feeling sorry for the girl?" Nick, a less nice version of Noah, and a lot ruder, suddenly questioned. Alex looked back at him and gave him a harsh look.

"Keep that mouth shut if you don't have anything nice to say," Alex demanded, his voice deep and raspy.

"Go back to your girl's club, Nick," Noah added smartly. Nick knew that Noah's referring to the cheerleaders, specifically Rebecca Hamilton, the girl he's been crushing on since third grade.

Nick stared back at them with wide eyes. "Alright, chill! I'm just messing around. What crawled up your ass today?" he directed his words to Alex.

Alex merely gave him a last look before turning his attention back to the lonely, blonde girl sitting so close yet so far away.

"She's new," Nick swiftly added, both Alex and Noah turned back to look at him at the same time.

"No shit," Noah spat. "Thank you for stating the obvious."

"Well, then stop staring. You can tell from a mile away that you're making her feel uncomfortable. It's kind of depressing."

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb, letting out a deep, exasperated sigh. He's wondering why he's still friends with Nick. The boy has no filter and doesn't care about anyone but himself. He should have dropped him when he had the chance.

"Scram, dude. Seriously," Noah offered with a stern and obvious tone. Alex is thankful that most of the time, Noah butts in, saying exactly what he thinks. Sometimes Alex wonders if he has superpowers and Noah indeed is capable of reading his mind.

Nick looked back at them, trying his hardest to hide the horrid look on his face. They've been friends since Middle School but sometimes it felt like they don't know each other at all. Perhaps it was his big mouth that always got him in trouble. He's worked so hard to be liked that when Alex and Noah publicly neglect him, it hurts his ego more than it hurts him,

He got up without saying another word, both set of eyes glued to him, not backing down.

"Ass hats," Nick mumbled under his breath and before Noah had time to react, Alex was holding him back.

"It's not worth it," he reminded his best friend. His true homie.

Noah continued to stare down at a really offended Nick while Alex trained his eyes back to the lonely girl. He knows new kids don't pull friends out of their pockets on their first day of school. It would take them about a week to get used to the idea of being in new territory.

But something inside of him stirred at the sole idea of this blonde girl minding her business and excluding herself from the crowd on purpose. No one wants to be alone. There must be a reason why you'd want to be lonely. And he wanted to find out what that reason was.

The bell was about to ring and he catches her closing her binder and gathering her things. He took it upon himself to take her all in. The way her blonde hair was pinned back and how her bangs framed her face most delightfully. Her glasses big and modern, her nose pointy and her fuller lips. He couldn't get himself to stop staring. He just couldn't. She was undeniably gorgeous.

"Dude!" a snap of fingers bring him back to earth. Noah raised his eyebrows as he relished in the way Alex was fully engaged with this curious, isolated girl.

"What?" his tone of voice sharp, as if he just got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Chill out," he said calmly but with a sparse smirk on his lips. "You're going to scare her off."

Alex furrowed his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"You're staring at her the way kids stare at candy, homie," he stated with a slightly high-pitched voice. "Why don't you go talk to her? She may want company."

Alex cleared his throat and sat firmer, straightening his back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," Noah parroted back at him.

Alex ignored him and looked back at her. He jumped slightly when the bell dismissed them from class. He didn't move a muscle but focused on how she stood up, looking down at her feet while grabbing her belongings. His eyes regarded her as she strutted her way out of the classroom without knowing that his eyes continued to look at her in the sweetest way ever written on planet earth.


	4. Art & Something Else

Norma hates how cruel teenagers can be. How annoying and close-minded. She bites into her tuna sandwich and continues to read the scribbles and insults girls have written on the bathroom stalls.

The tray sits comfortably on her lap as her eyes travel from one corner to the other.

_Veronica is a fat fuck._

_Manny had sex with Laura because she was a virgin. _

_Ernie + Julie 4ever!_

There weren't as many insults as she had expected. The girls kept it on the low and worried more about letting the rest of the school know that their boyfriends were untouchable and out of their leagues. Norma keeps reading.

_Lu was here._

_If you're reading this, you're a bitch._

Norma smiles to herself. There it is. How original of them. How unique. Norma's never been friendly enough with anyone to be called a bitch. No one's ever been close enough to decide that sometimes, and only when necessary, she can turn into one.

That's another reason why she's spending lunch hidden from the rest of the cool but mean kids. The disgusting but also tolerable idea came to her after the first week of school in North Dakota. A group of girls saw her sitting by herself during lunch and joined her out of pure spite.

She remembers how the girls stared at her the entire time, neither of them daring to break eye contact. She felt like that rare, albino gorilla in captivity at the zoo. She's never felt more uncomfortable in her life. The next day, she took it upon herself to hide from those vultures. She was safe there. No one could mess with her behind a bathroom stall.

The remaining of her day went as expected. She was able to fly under the radar, shielding herself from the many weird glares she was still receiving. She tried as best as she could to not make eye contact with anyone.

Norma was sure people started thinking she was a fresh student out of middle school. Her attire doesn't scream senior. Her thin figure didn't help either. But she stopped worrying about looks a long time ago.

The day is almost over and she had to congratulate herself from keeping calm and walking through those halls like she owned the school. It's taken her so long to build up that courage, that confidence; she's not bound to let anyone destroy it in just one day.

She finds room 312, art class. There were only a couple of students there, neither one of them turned to look her way when she entered the chilly and vibrant classroom.

There were no desks, only chairs. The chairs were planted in front wooden stands holding blank canvas. There was a tiny table on each one, holding art supplies and a bucket filled with unopened brushes and paint.

'_Great_,' she mumbles lightly. She wanted to hide from the crowd, not expose herself this way. The last time she took an art class was back in middle school. She remembers how the teacher's only focus was to eat hot cheetos and drink black coffee. She considered it a free class. A free time where she could get started on her homework and get it out of the way before it was her time to go home.

As expected, she found the chair and canvas at the very far end. She settled her things on the floor, leaning the binder against the leg of the chair. Although she could start feeling a bit of pressure are on her chest, she decided to breathe and relax. It shouldn't be that bad.

While she waited for the bell to ring, she took a look around. The ambiance in the room was different from the others. It smells like fresh paint and somehow and for whatever reason, it soothed her.

There are colorful origami figures hanging from the ceiling granting the room a unique touch. The walls were plastered with spectacular jobs created by young and imaginative teenagers begging for an escape through art.

Norma finds it fascinating how easily it is to create something so powerful by the flick of a brush into white thread. There's always a deeper meaning, nothing ordinary or plain. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say, but Norma found beauty all around. She was more than impressed.

There was a specific painting that caught her eye. The canvas was covered wholly in black paint, you couldn't even spot the white edges; it was simply a black canvas. But it had hope. A blue, yellow and green dot right in the middle of it, for what Norma understood indicated freedom.

She had to breathe a bit, looking away from a picture that reminded her so much of herself. The loneliness she feels inside is enough; she doesn't need to see it on display.

Without even noticing it, what used to be an empty class suddenly became too crowded. There wasn't an empty chair on sight and everyone was picking on their utensils already. She was actually excited for this class. She's finally looking forward to something.

"Welcome to my class!" the teacher exalts through beaming teeth. "Welcome, welcome! I am really, _reaaaaally_ excited to have every single one of you here today. I am more pleased to see familiar faces, let me see, who do we have here? Brandon! Welcome, Brandon! So good to see you," her enthusiasm was real, her bright smile lighting up the room. "Joel, Kendra, Carol! Good to have you!"

She stands in front class, pacing around as she says hi to her former students.

"Alex! Oh, good ol' Alex! So nice to see you!"

Norma's heart skips a beat. Alex? Alex Romero?

"Thank you, Mrs. Blackwell," his voice was angelic, too soothing to be exact.

Norma finds him in the midst of students, contemplating his sharp jaw and soft features. He's sitting on the opposite side of the room, a little more towards the front of class instead of the back. Norma looks around, trying to find what seemed to be his sidekick, that cheery boy that walked in ahead of him in Mr. Mullier's class.

But she couldn't spot any familiar faces. None of his so-called friends were there. It was only him. Only Alex Romero. Norma didn't know why that visual fact made her so giddy on the inside.

She takes a deep breath, hating that she was feeling nervous just now. But why? They've never talked to each other. She's sure he doesn't even know about her existence. Why is she caring for his own so much?

"All right, folks! This class is simple, for those who know me, know that I couldn't care less if you bring to class your guinea pig or your favorite pet. I don't care if you eat in class, I don't care if you FaceTime your mom _while_ you eat in class..." Norma smiles at her intellectual way of carrying herself. "But what I will not tolerate, is that you don't try. I encourage every single of you to try, to enjoy this class and that when it's time for you to go, I want you to take with you the memories, the strength, the art."

Norma's eyes travel back to where Alex is sitting passively, really attentive of what Mrs. Blackwell had to say. Why is he so intriguing? Why must she feel like there's something different, something she needs to discover about him? She's never spoken to him, why is she acting this fool? She needs to get her shit together.

Just when she was about to peel her eyes off of him, his incredible brown eyes meet her own. Norma immediately looks away, and she could feel her face turning a dark shade of red. She refused to look up, her eyes focused on her utensils, anything other than him.

But why would he look at her? Did he feel her eyes on him? Oh, God. She's so embarrassed. This has never happened to her. Why is she making a fool of herself now? At this point in her life?

"Okay, I'm talking too much, wasting precious time!" Mrs. Blackwell laughs. "We're going to start nice and easy, I'm not going to give you a hard time, it's only your first day. I'll wait until next week for that."

A couple of students found her amusing, laughing along with her, enjoying her jokes. Norma started to feel light headed at the mere thought of Alex. How innocent that glare was yet how powerful. He knew about her existence and she couldn't feel more uneasy even if she wanted to.

"So! Let me see how many of you..." she starts counting them, her finger pointing them out as she continued to count in her head. Norma knows what this means. There's no way. No. Please, no.

"Okay! Oh! I'm excited! I want you to pair up! Find you a partner! I'll give you five minutes! Go, go, go!"

Norma hides her face behind her hands. '_Damn it!_' she feels a current run through her, a bad, frightful current that made her toes curl in revulsion.

This was it. She was done. She was about to be publicly humiliated. If the rest of her classmates hadn't even given her a second look, or even a first, then she was bound to be the center of attention.

Norma started imploring that the floor, the blank canvas, at this point that anything would split in two and swallow her whole. She's been humiliated before, many times, but she wasn't too keen of being the center of attention. Not with Alex breathing the same air as her. She knows that if, not if, _when_ it comes to it, someone would have to be forced to pick her as their partner.

'_How fun,_' she thinks as her hands rub gently against her jeans, intending to wipe the sweat off. '_God, help me.'_

"You can rearrange your stations! Move around, find your partner and settle in however you want. This classroom is big enough for all of us!" Mrs. Blackwell chants happily, clapping her hands together as a way of dismissing them.

In tow, they all get up at the same time. Most of them walking straight to who they want to partner up with. The reality is that they all know each other, it's easy for you to choose a partner with a simple look. Working in pairs is something all students enjoy doing, like a delicacy.

But not for Norma.

Norma swipes her hand across her bangs, all of a sudden feeling as if her body was on fire. She could hear her heart hammer harshly against her ears. Her eyes couldn't focus on anything other than the mass of students roaming around the class, the high screeching noise of chairs being re-arranged hurting her ears.

She hugs herself absentmindedly, feeling ashamed for even existing. Why did she have to be so lame? So unoriginal? So different from the rest? Why couldn't she fit in like the others?

And an unexpected voice shatters her train of thoughts, her baby blue eyes catch the lower body of the person speaking to her. Is this real? This person must want her to get out of their way, that's for sure. There's no other explanation as to why anyone, let alone a boy, would talk to her.

"Hey," the voice sounded nice and tender. No. There's no way. This can't be.

She's bold enough to look up, facing the figure standing right before her. There they were. Those precious brown eyes again. Alex Romero standing right in front of her. He's looking at her through those long, dark eyelashes as if it was normal for him to walk up to newbies and start simple conversations.

But she didn't feel her heart anymore. She was sure it had stopped beating and she was dead. Norma couldn't look away; it was as if she was hypnotized and only he could break the spell.

Her body went rigid as she scrutinized his features from a much closer perspective. He simply stood there, watching her kindly, almost too kindly.

"Can I be your partner?"


	5. Diligent Eyes

Alex stands there, his eyes glued to her blue ones, waiting submissively for her response. Norma's glancing at him as if she's never seen a person from the opposite sex before.

She bites her lower lip apprehensively, looking away from his gorgeous, caramel eyes. They were burning her. She could feel the heat radiating off him and impelling her skull.

"Yes? No?" she looks back at him and catches him smiling at her. "Maybe?"

Norma realizes that she's still yet to give him an answer. He asked if he could be her partner. But why? Didn't he had other choices? _Better_ choices?

A light smile wants to blossom on her face, and she feels unstoppable and extremely comfortable to smirk right back. Of course she wants him to be her partner. Why wouldn't she want that?

But her confidence lasts only a couple of seconds, for she starts allowing the devil on her right shoulder to whisper all types of nonsense into her ear, blocking out anything the angel on the left had to say.

'_He feels sorry for you, dear_,' he states defiantly. '_Do you really think someone like him would come and talk to you out of the goodness of his heart? Don't be a fool.'_

_'He's a good guy,' _the angel reciprocates with kindness. '_He has good intentions and a good heart. Allow him in, Louise. Let him in.'_

Her head is spinning, and she thinks of the resemblance between a giant and Alex just now. That's what he looks like standing in front of her. She looks over her eyelashes and glasses, her eyes boring into his with a mysterious command.

And she contemplates him once again, appreciating all that he is from up-close and almost too personal. She can smell his cologne, and her nostrils take pleasure at the welcoming scent.

"I won't be that bad, I promise," he adds with a tiny smirk. And what a fantastic smile that was. It transformed his face most amazingly.

He sounds so sweet. Too sweet for her own good. Norma has seen bad before. Evil kids ready to humiliate you in the dirtiest way. Alex doesn't give her that vibe; as much as she's trying to sense it, she solely can't.

As much as she wants to be bold and express the giddiness her heart is feeling right now, at least through body language, she can't. She has to guard herself; she can't let anyone in. As much as she wants to, she naturally can't. Maybe the devil on her right shoulder is right after all.

"Two more minutes!" Mrs. Blackwell chants and Alex turns his attention back to the teacher for a brief moment.

Norma feels stupid for not being able to act like any other normal girl would. Why did she have to be this way? '_Talk to him, you idiot! He's going to think you're a weirdo!_' her inner Norma stated with distress.

Normally, she would have expected one of the many girls in class to approach her before any guy would. No boy has ever started a conversation with her, and it gives her some type of reassurance.

"Come on," he begs, and Norma is taken by surprise. "I don't bite."

His facial expression is soft and endearing. She could have sworn he was a tough guy, stoic even. The average guy all the girls fantasize over, the boy that always plays hard to get. Yet, here he is begging the new, insignificant girl for acceptance.

Norma finally smiles, a slight barely-there smile, but one that brightened his features. She nods her head in agreement, accepting his offer and letting go of the breath she had no idea she had been holding.

"Awesome," he says with a sense of freedom, pulling out the chair next to Norma's station, assembling it right next to her. She watches his every move and bites her lip again. Is this really happening?

"I'm Alex, by the way," the room is too crowded, but his closeness makes it easy for Norma to hear him. She looks down and sees his extended hand waiting for her own.

She freezes, and as much as she wants to tell him her name, to talk to him and start an actual conversation, her trachea closes numbly, and she's not able to speak.

So she simply takes his hand, shaking it lightly, squeezing it a bit. His hand is warm and soft, compared to her cold one. He squeezes her as well and glances back at her with a questionable glare. It's obvious that he's waiting to hear her name. But she's come to realize that she can't speak. This is too much for her; too much stacked up on her plate.

Her eyes dart back to the door, thinking of a way to take off, run for her life, and not come back at all. How embarrassing it is to act this way. She's going to scare him off. He'll think she's weird and he'll ask her to switch partners; bet money on it.

But her eyes find his own again, his hand still seizing hers. She doesn't say anything at all, and he doesn't seem to mind. His eyes are trained on investigating every speck of her blue orbs, her eyes keeping him under an exquisite spell.

"Okay! Are we all set?!" Mrs. Blackwell screams wildly, startling Norma in the process, causing her to jump and lose her tight grip on his hand. Her hand wasn't cold anymore, but warm and fuzzy, a tingling sensation running through it as if ants were roaming freely under her skin.

Norma straightens her upper body, her shoulders suddenly stiffed. Her attention was solely on Mrs. Blackwell, momentarily providing her heart a break.

And she kept her eyes on the teacher while Alex kept his eyes on her. He wonders why she hasn't spoken a word to him yet. He's dying to know her name. He wants to give her a name, he wants to know why he's so engrossed with her; with this isolated girl that pays attention in class and minds her business.

He couldn't shake off the feeling just yet, the impulse he felt when he looked around and found her hugging herself anxiously, perhaps thinking that no one would pick her as a partner and she would end up with Shaun—the odd kid no one ever wants to pair up with.

But something drew him to her, like a tidal wave, a powerful current. He couldn't look away, he had to introduce himself. It's the second time he's seen her, the second time their eyes have locked for more than a couple of seconds. It's not a coincidence, it can't be.

Her light and fruity fragrance have suddenly become his favorite aroma. It reminds him of the scent his mom is so obsessed with. It's got to be fruity. She owns more than twelve different bottles, and they all smell the same. He wonders if she's just like her.

His eyes travel to her hands, finding her fidgeting with her fingers, her nails clean, short and natural of color. He was surprised to see her nails free of acrylic and dazzling designs. Almost every girl in school showcased their long nails, some of them too long for their own liking, simply getting them done to look or be like the rest.

She had no rings, no jewelry, no watch on either wrist. She wore flats, and he liked that she did. A pair of high heels wouldn't go with this outfit. Not with her white polo and green cardigan. He's seen one too many girls dressed up for school as if they had to go clubbing or to a bar right after class. They're too eccentric and extremely ordinary. The click of their heels tapping against the floor drives him insane.

And he started feeling like a jerk because she was sitting right next to him and all he was doing was contemplating her. Perhaps comparing her with the rest of the girls wasn't ideal, but it brought him some kind of comfort knowing that this mysterious girl wasn't like the rest.

He noticed how she's not wearing any make-up, her eyes free of shimmering eyeshadows and eyelash extensions. She was simply beautiful, and he couldn't understand how someone could be so cute and adorable, yet so discreet and captivating.

"Thank you for making this so easy!" the teacher exalts, walking around to stand in front of her desk again. "You're my first class that actually listens."

Norma smiles a little, annoyed with herself for how giddy she's feeling just now. She feels like smiling and in some sort, at peace. She looks down at her hands and can feel Alex's eyes on her. She looks his way, finding him staring back at her with warmth. But she doesn't look away this time. The angel on her left side chanting away all its nobility into her ear. Alex seems to have such a powerful magnetism, and she's plainly fascinated by it.

He's a really attentive boy, Norma thinks. He's so determined, so heedful. He's never the one to look away. He can stare you down but in the sweetest way. Norma liked that. God, she loved it.

His eyes roam around her face, lingering from time to time on her lips; observing how pink and full they are. She notices him staring, and as much as she wanted to hold that stupid grin back, she finds herself smiling again.

He reciprocates her smirk, his barely-there dimples drawing her in. He has such a beautiful smile. She couldn't get enough.

As always and expected, she looks away, scared that he could read her; she already feels like he can.

"I don't want you to miss the real meaning behind art. It's more than stick figures and messy hearts. Art is something else, something that you feel. Something you can easily express and show the rest of the world with the simple flick of your wrist and vivid imagination," Blackwell expresses openly, pacing in front of her students. "And that is exactly what this assignment is about. I can tell all of you to draw me a picture, something simple, something sophisticated. But then I would already have an idea in my head, a perfect picture of what I'll see, of what all of you will create. But then... when you find it, when you feel it... that's when you'll really blow me away. I can't tell you what to draw. You have to find it yourself. Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."

Norma couldn't agree more. She's no Vincent van Gogh, but she appreciated art.

"I need you to find at least three characteristics of your partner; good traits. You know what? They don't have to be good. They could be bad. It really doesn't matter. But, you need to discover what makes them _them_. Don't focus on the outside because that doesn't give us much to go off of."

Norma's heart is starting to race again. Is she going to have to talk to Alex? She doesn't want to speak. She feels safer this way, she feels in utter control. It's an uncommon coping mechanism that has worked for her over the years.

No one has ever spoken to her, so she hasn't spoken to anybody else either. At this point in her life, it's a law that can't be broken or violated. It's always been the same... until now.

"Find three words that best describe your partner. Three simple words. They could be anything, anything at all. There are no rules, no exceptions. Get to know each other a little bit, find your inner artist, and try reading people's souls. Then I want you to draw a picture of an object, an animal, _anything_ that reminds you of your partner. In a sense, I want you to find inspiration and paint their souls. I don't think I'm asking for too much, am I? I'll give you this entire week to work on it. Your assignment is due this Friday. Good luck!"

Paint their souls? How is she-what? Norma takes a deep breath in an attempt to hide her nervousness and panic away. How is she supposed to do that? And her breath hitches intensely, her palms are sweaty and she could feel her heart thumping wildly all the way to her throat. She's spending all her time in art class with him now? She thought that this was just for today. A one-time thing.

Alex leans in, relaxing his elbows on his knees, his eyes crazy to find her own again. She slowly turns her head, her lip caught between her lip. Their eyes unite once again and she feels powerful, invincible.

He smiles at her, his eyes always courteous and welcoming.

"Are you ready?"


	6. Her Name

"So, we're doing this?" Alex questions with a slight smirk and nothing but eager eyes.

Norma simply raises her shoulders in response, not having it in her to speak and break her protection shield into a million pieces.

The classroom looked so different just now. Mrs. Blackwell had them rearrange their stations to purposely block your partner's view of their white canvas, but just enough to captive their demeanor in order to complete the assignment.

Norma was glad that she could use her station to hide her red cheeks and shaky hands from Alex's view. Her face felt hot and her hands awfully clammy, which she hated more than anything. It always exposes her deepest fears. She hates that she can't control how to simply not look awkward or insecure in front of others. It was almost as if she had a sign glued to her forehead that read:_ 'I'm scared of human contact, so what?'_

But despite all the negativity, she insisted to pile up on her plate, she couldn't ignore that she had the infamous Alex Romero as her partner and that she'd had to repeat this scenario all week long.

"No peeking!" Mrs. Blackwell chants from the other side of the room.

"I'll rip your head off if you so much glance at your partner's piece. And I mean that."

Norma giggled a little, enduring the sarcasm of the notorious, crazy art teacher that everyone loves so much. If only. She'd take getting decapitated over spending an entire week with Alex. That feeling in the pit of her stomach is still there and Norma knows that it is there to stay. She's still trying to figure something out because storming off is not an option; although it never was.

Why would he, though? Why her? She's been doing great on her own, she never had to worry about anyone forcing their way in. She resents him in a way, for now, anyway. He's such an intruder and she doesn't know if she likes that or not.

What a joke. The hottest guy in school willingly chooses you as his partner and here you are wishing that he never spoke to you to begin with. But then, at the same time, she wouldn't change it for the world, and this is why she's so insecure.

"She's not kidding," Alex states, that same brilliant smile planted on his face. Is that broad, perfect smile really necessary?

But Norma grants him a half-smile, one that wasn't really there but enough to convince him that his statement had that sweet effect on her.

"I'm not taking that chance," he adds. "You might rip my head off, too."

And there it is. That same smile that brightens his face delightfully. His features are sharp but with a light touch of sheer subtlety. His eyes darker than the night, carrying that same mystery as a hidden and prohibited forest.

"What's your name?" he finally asks. The need of wanting to put a name to that frail, peculiar but gorgeous face was eating him alive.

Norma breaks eye contact, clasping her hands together and furrowing her eyebrows in discomfort. Alex must have sensed her apprehension and was quick to react. He fished for something inside his black and ordinary book bag, taking out a red spiral notebook. Norma bites her lip nervously, watching with bravery his every move. His muscular forearm flexes as he reaches for a colored pencil situated on his station.

"Here," he whispers, and Norma takes a sudden and quick breath. He wants her to write down her name. Norma can hardly breathe.

She squeezes her hands one last time and timidly reaches for the notebook and pencil. Their eyes connect for a slight second and Norma fights the urge to smile and merely takes it without any preamble.

Norma opens the notebook, searching for a blank page. She can't seem to ignore how neatly and perfect his handwriting is and wonders why every boy on planet earth thinks it's necessary to write in all caps.

As she flips through the pages her nose detects a specific scent, one that's all him. It's the same smell from a while ago when he stood in front of her. She notices how he only uses one specific pen. Blue ink and fine point. She almost smiled because she could tell when the pen ran out of ink and she could only picture him stubbornly forcing the last ounce of ink into the thin paper.

Norma bites her lip one last time when she finds the blank sheet of paper she was looking for, not daring to look up and find him staring back at her with pity or perhaps discomfort.

She peacefully scribbles her name, licking her lips and keeping her bottom one caught between her teeth. Her breath shakes as she hands the notebook over to him. Norma can only focus on his extended hand, not wanting to look at his face just yet.

But she's drawn to him like a force of nature and her eyes are eager to bore into his as if it's something natural and so common for her to do so. She watches nervously as he turns the notebook around and smiles the second he reads her name.

"Norma," he says smiling, his eyes still focused on the paper with her name on it.

Norma stops breathing and she no longer knows if the heart inside her rib cage is still beating. Her name's never had such a sweet tone to it – what a treat.

"I like it," he looks at her. "It suits you."

_'It suits me?' _Norma thinks. '_I hate it. I'm named after an old, grumpy lady. Do I look that old? Jesus.'_

"Nice to meet you, Norma," Alex exalts with quite decency, his tone eccentric and trustworthy.

The need to speak was consuming her entire being. She could hear clocks ticking backwards everywhere, her hands felt clammy once more and she could feel her pupils dilating as the clocks inside her head continued to tick tremendously as if striving to drive her insane.

A flicker of grief washed over her, and she felt an awful need to cry and let out her most inner frustrations for a change. But she had to nip it in the bud and keep her mouth shut. She's come a long way to disintegrate in front of a teenage boy whose intentions are not even clear or genuine for all she knows.

"TAYLOR!" Mrs. Blackwell screamed at the top of her lungs. "THAT CANVAS IS NOT YOURS!"

Although Norma was glad for the minor interruption, at the same time she admired the way Alex was looking at her just now. There was something about this boy that intrigued her immensely. But what is it? What?

But Alex is _just_ as captivated by this strange, new girl as she is with him. She's so different from what he's used to. It may sound cruel to refer to her as something he's used to, but it's nothing but the truth. Norma is normal. Not extravagant and what everyone calls 'extra' nowadays.

She's a regular student, wearing regular clothes, and he loves how delicate she looks. Someone so gorgeous and frail, needing nothing but to be treated with care. He wanted to get to know this girl. This girl that refuses to speak to him. The girl with the eyes as blue as the deep blue sea.

* * *

**A/N: **_It's been forever... I know. This is too short... I know that too. But it needed to be short... Don't hate me :) I love every single one of you. You rock for freaking (imagine I'm saying the other F- word!) sticking with me even though I go MIA for months at a time. Life is crazy. Real crazy. But so are you guys for believing in me. Seriously. I love you. _


	7. Old Spice

"So?!" Francine's voice rumbles through the thin walls as Norma shuts the door behind her.

"Jesus!" she shrieks and rests her entire body against the wooden door with a loud thump, her keys dangling in her hands. "Mom!"

"I'm sorry, honey," she cackles as she steps closer to her daughter. She holds onto the straps of Norma's backpack and slides it off her body. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Francine tangles her arm with Norma's, escorting her to the kitchen and excited as ever to hear her talk about her first day of school.

"I thought you were working late," Norma sighs, allowing her mother to lead her to the kitchen.

"I had a meeting, but it got postponed."

"So, you rushed home? That's unlikely of you," Norma states with a sparse grin. "You cooked?"

"Don't act so surprised," Francine rolls her eyes and drops the bag on the kitchen counter. "I made your favorite. Chicken Marsala."

"No way!" Norma pretended to be dazzled, understanding that her mother only makes this specific meal when she's feeling sorry for something.

"Oh, quit," Francine spat sourly, recognizing the significance behind Norma's ironic tone. "Wash your hands. Sit."

"Yes ma'am," Norma smiles as she roams towards the sink, pumping soap into her hands.

"Tell me about your day," her mother starts, opening the cabinets and taking out two white plates. "And keep it PG."

"Oh, the events of today are rated R."

"What happened?" she stood there waiting for an answer, the plates still in hand. Her feet were clung to the ground, and she refused to move. It fulfills her with sparse hope to hear that glint of playfulness in her daughter's voice.

Norma looks over her right shoulder, locking eyes with her mother as she proceeded to rinse her hands.

"Nothing in particular," she responds indifferently.

"I will not settle for anything less, Norma Louise. Spill it."

"Mom," Norma titters and squints her eyes, knowing that she had spoken too soon and maybe too much. Her mother is not going to drop the subject now, and she hates herself for bringing it up instead of granting her the old fashion answer that keeps her from asking further questions.

"It was a good day, that's all," Norma dries her hands, using the small towel that hangs from the wall next to the sink.

She had managed to hide her enthusiasm a little, and she had noticed because her mother continued moving around the kitchen without any more preamble.

"Set the table, please," Francine handed her the plates, and Norma willingly took them. "I'll get the salad going."

"How was _your_ day?" Norma asks as she paces back and forth from one end to the other, setting down their placemats and utensils on their Elsmere Antique dining table.

"Not as good as yours, apparently."

"Mom!" Norma beams, and Francine turns around just in time to enjoy that grand smile of hers.

"Goodness gracious! You're all smiles today!" her mother simpers brightly, placing the plates with their chicken marsala on the table.

"No, I am not!" she exalts, her smile still present. "You're the one making me smile!"

"Oh, I'm sure," Francine chants with delight. "I think someone else is making you smile. Not your mother!"

"Quit!" she shouts, stomping her foot on the tile floor like a spoiled brat who doesn't get what she wants.

"A boy maybe?"

"What boy?"

"I don't know, any boy."

"Boys don't talk to me, mom."

Francine walks back to the kitchen to finish prepping the salad, and Norma takes a seat, hiding her face in her hands.

"Why are you blushing, then?" she dares to say. "Your ears on fire!"

"Because you keep asking stupid questions!"

"Stupid? I don't think they're stupid," she answers cheekily. "My daughter never comes home from school so giddy and smiley. And I happen to have hundreds of 'first day of school' shenanigans from you, Missy. I've heard it all. But I've never seen you come home looking like this."

"Looking like what?" she turns her head, making eye contact with her mom, who made her way to the dining table carrying a large bowl of salad in her hands.

"Relieved."

"Don't be ridiculous," Norma breathes, stretching out for the bowl of salad settled right in front of her. She began to feel her mother's eyes torching holes in her skull. But she'd be damned if she looks up.

"I'm ridiculous?"

"You are."

"I beg to differ," Francine declares. Norma was sure that there was a hint of joy in her tone, the way she said it as if she was convinced that there is more to what Norma prefers to conceal. "I'm your mother."

"So?"

"I know you better than anyone. And there is something, or maybe _someone_ you don't wanna tell me about. But I get it. You'll come to me when you're ready."

Norma decides to lock eyes with her, those same blue, energetic eyes that look exactly like hers.

"My life's never revolved around boys. Boys don't even speak to me, mom."

"Exactly."

Norma desired for the ground to swallow her whole. She knew. But how? Was it that obvious? Shame on her mother for knowing her daughter so damn well.

"Eat," Norma demands with a smile on her face, reaching for

the bowl of salad and serving her some. Francine didn't say anything else after that, seeming content with herself for figuring out her daughter's brittle sensitivity and most profound desire. There was a boy. She knows it. But she won't pressure her into telling her anything until she's ready. She will wait. Patiently.

* * *

Norma stands in front of her full-length mirror, her pajamas on, and her blonde hair damp. She adjusts her glasses as she begins to comb her hair. The fragrance of strawberries with a mix of green apple fills the room as she continues to brush her blonde locks.

She could still sense Alex's cologne in the air, somehow fused with the fruity fragrance of her soap and shampoo. His dark eyes creeping into her gloomiest place and invading her well-organized isolation. How dare he. Who permitted him to become all she can think about now? Who is he, and why is he feeling determined to demolish her armor? Her strongest defense. Her rightful and very well owned mechanism.

But standing there, she couldn't snub the dorky grin on her face. She's such a hypocrite. Over the years, she's managed to find every chick flick a horrendous and constant cliche. She's laughed at every teenage girl that falls for the popular boy in school. Rolling her eyes had turned into a solid habit, for she never understood nor believed that crushing over someone you've never talked to before was utterly absurd.

'_Not so stupid now, huh_?' she muses to herself. '_Oh, God. I've become one of them_.' As much as she wants to believe that she's just like those girls; deep down, she knows that she's the complete opposite. They share similarities, but she'll never reach that high of a bar all others tend to set themselves with.

She's Norma. Norma Louise Calhoun. A travel girl, like her mother called her once in an attempt to lift her spirit. '_Look at it that way, pumpkin. You travel the world. Wherever I go, you go. We're in this together._' That's all she was. A walking robot that obeys her mother's orders and no one else's.

The stinging feeling that she's been able to confine inside her chest for so many years, have roused to unleash at last. Alex Romero is the reason why. And although she lamented the amount of time she was misusing thinking about him, something told her that it wasn't a waste of time at all.

"Okay, what's his name?" Francine bursts through the door, startling Norma once again, her pink brush hitting her marble-tiled floor.

"MOM!"

"Oh, come on!" she complains, leaving the door wide open and freely taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "You were daydreaming just now. I can't go to bed like this, Louise. You're cruel."

"_You're_ cruel," Norma groans, picking up her brush from the floor and putting it away. "I'm only seventeen, and you're committed to giving me a heart attack."

"I might," she appends. "Is that what it will take for you to tell me your business?"

"Keyword, mom. _My_ business."

"_Our_ business."

"You just-"

"I am your mother."

"So?"

"I gave birth to you."

"Unfortunately," Norma flashes a smile at her eager mother, turning her back on her to finish enveloping her face with moisturizer.

"I'll sue you if you don't tell me."

"Mom," she speaks in a monotone, her mother's impatience becoming less infuriating and more comical.

"Seriously, Louise. What will it take?"

"Maybe I'll tell you the day you decide to stop calling me that hideous name."

"You're named after your grandma'," Francine fakes reassurance. She knows how Norma feels about her mother.

"Exactly."

"Fine," she laments. "I won't call you that anymore."

"You won't last a day without calling me Louise."

"Maybe four."

"Three, and that's if I don't get on your nerves," Norma says, putting her moisturizer away.

"You're about to if you don't tell me his name."

Norma knows it will be almost, if not impossible, to get rid of her unless she gives her what she wants. She has to admit that she's dying to tell someone about Alex. The need is eating her alive.

Francine watches her every move, heeding with her blue eyes as Norma pulls the comforter off her side of the bed and hops in. She crosses her legs and seizes a pillow, arranging it behind her back for comfort. Her mother is still watching her, dying to hear what she's about to confess.

But instead of speaking, Norma covers her face with both hands. Blushing hard.

"Norma!" her mother yelps in turmoil as she turns her body around to face her fully.

"Alex. Alex Romero," she says in almost a whisper, her hands muffling her words.

"Who?" Francine questions, her tone croaky yet carefree.

Norma glides her hands down her face, the redness of her cheeks peeking within.

"Alex Romero."

"Alex Romero," her mother recites with charm as if relieved somehow as if knowing his name would give her some sort of comfort.

"Senior. Quarterback. Tall and handsome. Kind."

"A jock?" she grins.

"A_ kind_ jock," Norma corrects. "We share two classes together. First and last period. We were divided into groups, and he chose me as his partner."

Francine tried to look as sane as possible, trying her hardest not to show signs of absolute shock. She never understood why Norma thought it was best to keep to herself after all these years. Although deep down, she knew the reason why.

It hasn't been easy watching Norma struggle over the years, witnessing her daughter intentionally withdrawing herself from being social and keeping or even making friends. She's molded her into this outsider that wants nothing to do with civilization, and she's the one to blame for that.

"He chose you, huh?"

"I know. I'm still trying to figure out why," she says in a hushed tone, ashamed of admitting her reality.

"What do you mean?" Francine furrows her eyebrows. Norma shrugs her shoulders in reply, and her posture drops a little.

"I don't know, mom. Boys don't talk to me on the regular. Or at all. Or even girls for that matter."

"How did it happen?" she wonders, making it evident in her tone that she's not judging her, just asking a candid question.

"He chose me as his partner," she says plainly.

"Just like that?"

Norma agrees. "Yup."

"And?" Francine keeps poking her for real answers. "What did you guys talk about?"

"We didn't," she laments. "Well, I didn't."

"You didn't talk?"

Norma was getting irritated; at this point she didn't know if it was due to her mother's interrogation or the fact that she lamented not talking to him at all.

"I didn't talk. I didn't say a word to him. I just sat there like an idiot and continued to look like one for the remaining of the class."

"Okay..." Francine nods in understanding. "You said that you didn't talk but he did?"

Norma bows her head in agreement.

Francine smiles. "And?"

But Norma stares at her mother, her expression impassive and vague. Francine began to wonder if it was becoming too much for Norma to handle, but then her face flourished, and her demeanor changed.

"I don't think he noticed me during first period," she starts. "I don't know why he would notice me at all, really. I mean, someone like him is expected to walk around school looking at everyone over his shoulder, you know?"

Her mother bobs her head and lifts her right shoulder and allows her to continue.

"But that's not him at all. I noticed it right away," she explains as she adjusts her glasses and continues to play with her fingers nervously. "He is so passive, so neutral in every aspect. Everyone else is _so out there_, so loud-mouthed and obnoxious. It's like he's Cinderella, and the rest of the world is Anastasia and Drizella."

"Cinderella?!" Francine yelps in amusement. "Oh, God! What a terrible analogy!"

"I know! I know!" Norma giggles and adjusts her glasses again. "But I can't find a better illustration than that. I've tried it."

"Norma..."

"Seriously," she adds with a little smirk. "Mrs. Blackwell paired us for this week's assignment, and I was sure that I'd be left alone. No one chooses the new girl. Or me for that matter."

"Alex did."

A ridiculous grin spread over her face, and somehow her mother's statement had diminished her doubts about Alex's unknown intentions.

"While I was mentally preparing myself to be humiliated again, he approached me. He asked if he could be my partner."

Francine's eyes widen, speaking slow, dragging her words. "Oh, my. Really?"

"What?"

"He didn't ask if you wanted to be his partner," she allows the fact to linger for a little. "He asked you if you could be his..."

Norma looks perplexed. "Okay, and?"

"You said he had chosen you as his partner," Francine explains. "When in reality, he was asking for permission to be yours."

"Is... Is that supposed to mean something?" Norma inquires.

"Of course it does! That says a lot!"

"Like what?"

"Like he has good manners, for starters," she says. "And that he is a gentleman."

"I just told you he's kind," Norma endorses.

"Interesting," she presses her lips together and fixes her position, scooting closer to Norma. "And then what happened?"

"It took me a while, but I agreed. We rearranged our stations after being instructed to do so, and... He asked what my name was."

"AH!" she yelps in excitement, making Norma smile.

"I didn't tell him. Now that I think about it, I think he knew I was nervous. Either that or I couldn't hide that I felt completely insecure because instead of asking again, he handed me a notebook for me to write it down."

Asking why she chose not to talk to him meant stepping all over her comfort zone. Francine figured she'd done enough damage at this point that she preferred letting things be and to go with the flow. But knowing Norma and her unusual ways,_ this_ is progress.

"He said that it suits me. I'm still debating whether I should take that as an insult or not," she tries to say with sparse humor.

"You have an old soul," Francine tells her. "You might have been an old lady in your past life."

"Thanks," she exclaims in a high pitch, making her sarcasm very present.

"It's a good trait to have, trust me. I wish I was as noble and naive as you."

"Are you openly insulting me right now?"

"Bunny, it's a good thing," she repeats with a dainty tilt of her head. She reaches for Norma's hands and begins inspecting her palm. "If you knew how hard it is to find someone like you out there."

Norma will be lying if she admits her mother's remark did not make her feel completely self-conscious and uncanny. Part of her knew that this was guilt talking. Perhaps all the enthusiasm about finding out the name behind her smile was merely just that, guilt. Or maybe she's relieved that this time, unlike all others, a new petal has flourished in her daughter's garden instead of a barbed thorn.

The act of pettiness didn't sit right with Norma, for she has had to commiserate her existence and regret existing, because of the person praising her right now. The truth is like swallowing sand, which has been addressed before, diminishing any type of self-love, and that unimpaired bond between them.

Norma didn't have the heart to tell her. And she resented herself for it. For getting hurt and not being humanly capable of hurting back. Out of spite. Out of anger. For taking it all, the blames and mind games, the shocking truth. Mastering the act of settling for less because that's all she's ever been offered - the only thing she's ever known.

"Norma!" Francine exalts, bringing Norma back to earth and interrupting her train of thoughts.

"What?"

"Where'd you go just now?"

"What?" she asks again.

"You want to talk?"

"No."

"Okay," Francine sighs, giving up on trying to get anything out of her. "I'm going to bed. I don't know if I'll be home tomorrow for dinner, but you have leftovers in the fridge. Just make yourself some fresh salad."

"Mom, I'm not ten. I think I can manage," Norma says quietly.

"Alright," she throws her hands in mid-air, getting up and walking to the door. "Have a good night, kiddo."

"Again. Not ten."

"You'll always be my baby."

"Mom, gross," Norma squints her eyes, turning on her left side, and tries her hardest to disregard her mother's radiant smile.

"I love you," she hits the switch, the room immediately immersing in serene darkness.

"I love you too," Norma tells her, watching as she closes the door behind her.

She turns and lays on her back with a deep sigh, removing her glasses and setting them on the nightstand. There was a thin coating of moonlight seeping through her window, but not enough for her to see her surroundings. But she liked the dark. It resembles the darkness that occurs in a complete solar eclipse, blocking out the light, the noise, and the feeling of being, leaving you in the silence of serenity, if only for a few seconds.

That's what helps her drift into the depths of the undiscovered, the only way she can find comfort in her lonely world. The time of day where she feels peace. Composure. A world that's been entirely hers, and solely in control.

But tonight, she's not alone. Someone else is with her, the thought of him keeping her company. She closes her eyes, and the darkness becomes more dominant. That aroma, old spice, returning and disturbing her all the more. She knew then that she wasn't in charge anymore - someone else has taken over. Someone else has finally entered her forbidden, and isolated world.


	8. Notice Me

**Norma's POV**

Do you know that tingly sensation you get at the pit of your stomach when you're nervous about something? The one that doesn't go away, even if you try to? Some people find ways of dealing with that feeling that refuses to wilt away.

Some chew their fingernails off to no avail. A few don't stop biting until they see and taste blood. Others feel like they have been repeatedly turned upside down and choose to empty their stomachs, hurling everywhere like animals with no control over themselves.

Well, I feel like doing exactly that just now, biting my nails and hurling—even thinking about eating breakfast grosses me out. I was an expert on kicking that feeling aside and ignoring it for as long as I could. It usually goes away on its own if you set your mind to it. But at this point in my life, I did not know how.

It's not the first time it happens; this feeling is not new to me. It's happened before, plenty of times. Mostly every single time I had to pack my bags and go. You'd think that doing the same thing frequently, that it'd give you some comfort because you have an idea of how things will end - wrong. You never know if things are going to go according to your plan.

This is how things go, mostly for my mom and me. We are told what to do, where to go, and where to live. The power of the rich mutes our voices. Vincent, to be exact. A life ruiner. He ruins my life for a living, and the worst part of it is, I get no commission.

"_Find the good in the bad, Louise_," my mom used to say. Every time she had to tell me we were moving again, she tried to be as smooth and pleasant about it as she could. That didn't work out so well. Because no matter how hard she tried, my mother was always the bearer of bad news.

But today, that feeling inside my stomach is here to stay, and school is not creating it this time. The fear of starting somewhere new again wasn't either. The reason behind this feeling had a name, face, and incredible brown eyes.

The fact that this is happening to me is making me feel utterly ridiculous. And a lot foolish, I must say. But at the same time, I've never had to worry about feeling this way towards anyone, so I don't know if it's normal. If this horrible flutter inside my stomach is expected. All I know is that I'm not too fond of it. I feel abhorrent, and if my mom thinks I'm naive now, after today, she's in for a big surprise, let me tell you that.

I'm already changing; I feel it. Not failing to notice how I spent a little more time on my hair than most days, waking up thirty minutes earlier than usual to get that done. Not that I slept much. Those brown eyes kept disturbing me and disrupting my sleep.

I don't mean changing physically. I don't dare to wear any makeup. My face has been entirely free of those foul, hazardous chemicals, and I'm not about to start clogging my pores over a boy. Heck no.

Not that I own any. Mom has been trying to get me to buy mascara, at least. I refuse. '_Come on, Norma. Live a little,' _she used to tell me. I would laugh at her relentlessly. Boo-hoo. Poor me. I'm living a monotonous life because I don't own an expensive tube of road pitch.

One thing I'm most proud of is my hair. My blonde, silky hair. My bangs play a big part in it. I don't remember if I got them because I liked and wanted them or because they were an excellent asset at concealing half my face. I don't spend time thinking about it, the answer to that is irrelevant because bangs or not, I still get ignored.

As I take another look at myself, I remember that Alex did not neglect this walking narrow, dull teenage disaster, which had to mean something. My head is in knots, not as much as my stomach, but I'm feeling a massive migraine approaching. Am I going to have to talk to him? I really don't want to. What if he doesn't speak to me at all today? What if he chooses to ignore me, then? I don't want to be reminded of that wretched feeling and my so-long friend called rejection.

I need to stop thinking so much and loosen up a little. I'm going to push him away with my awkwardness and silent treatments. He's going to think something's wrong with me. That I'm not interested and that I want him to leave me alone. But that's not what I want. That's not what I want at all.

"Almost ready?" Francine calls, and Norma can picture her standing intently at the bottom of the stairs. Her morning call never seizing to startle her.

"I'll be down in a minute," I yell back, thinking of changing my light pink cardigan and cursing in my head because if I want to get to class before Alex, I have to leave now.

* * *

"Who are you looking for?" Jason asks as he discerns how preoccupied Alex was. He watches Alex lean against his locker, arms crossed over his chest, impatiently scanning the crowded hallway.

"What?" he asks absentmindedly, his eyes still glued on the crowd.

Jason pats his shoulder, hard enough to get his attention. Alex sighs in annoyance and makes it obvious that Jason was bothering him.

"What's with you, man?" he blurts with exasperation, his eyes more clouded than usual.

"Chill," Jason laughs, not taking offense to his harsh tone. "What's with _you_? I don't think you heard anything I've said since you hopped in my car this morning. Is it your dad? Is he fucking with you again?"

"What? No!" Alex scrunches his nose in repugnance. "Why are you always bringing him up?"

"I don't always bring him up. Only when you're acting weird," he says in his defense. Alex is about to say something when he spots the person he's been looking for since he walked into the building. His heart skipped a beat the second he laid eyes on her.

And there she was strolling down the hallway gazing at her feet with her books crushed against her chest. That light pink looks like it's melting with her skin. Alex is sure it intensifies the fantastic blue of her eyes and can hardly wait to see it for himself. Her soft hair bounces on her shoulders every step she takes.

Jason follows Alex's steady gaze and obtains the answer to his stupid questions. He glances back at Alex and notices how he is following her with his eyes and has not found the need to blink just yet. Something inside of Jason ticks, and he is proficient in putting two and two together.

"Romero," his tone fatherly and scolding. "This is it? What the fuck am I doing finding out you like this girl by watching you drool all over? You couldn't say anything in the car, bro?"

"What?" Alex says again, glancing back at Jason, finding his blue eyes already peering intensely at him accompanied by a stupid and quite broad grin.

"That explains a lot," Jason laughs and leans against the lockers. "What's her name?"

"Whose name?" Alex breathes already exasperated at his foolishness and ignorance this early in the morning.

"_Whose name_," he mocks him ruthlessly. "The new girl!"

Alex clears his throat and gives himself time to answer. He couldn't believe he had let his guard down in front of Jason. He wasn't ready to talk to him about Norma just yet. He didn't even know how to bring up the fact that he spent all night and all morning thinking of her.

"Why do you care?" he spits with light possessiveness.

Jason furrows his eyebrows, taken aback by how Alex was choosing to act towards him just now.

"Bro, _chill_," he instructs him again. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Alex spins around and fishes his bag out of his locker and slams it shut. "Let's head to class."

Jason decides to keep his comments and further questions out of the way. He clears his throat and starts following Alex down the hall, confused but mostly concern about his behavior. Something was bothering his best friend, and he's not going to stop until he figures out what.

Trigonometry was around the corner, but Alex had lost sight of Norma already. He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to contain his excitement. He knows that he won't be able to interact with her, not as easy as it will be once in art class, but he still had the chance to contemplate her even if she was oblivious to his presence.

"Yo! Are we still on for tonight?" Bob Paris appears out of nowhere, nudging Alex in the ribs with his left elbow. When Alex doesn't respond and strikes him a look of uncertainty, he sighs. "The lake house? I thought we were set and ready to go. Becca and all the girls are going. We're ditching last period and heading over there so that we can beat traffic."

"I'm not going," Alex says.

"What? Why? This is our annual thing, man."

"Not for me. Not this year. It's a school night, and I'm not ditching my last class for that nonsense."

"Since when do you care about school?" Bob asks with a sparse mocking smile.

"Since always. I'm the quarterback, and I almost lost that privilege last year because of your so-called company. Do I need to remind you?"

Bob looks over at Jason, expecting him to say something, but he says nothing.

"Have fun with your girls," Alex chants before turning the corner and walking into the classroom.

"Dude, what the hell?" he grabs Jason's arm, halting his movements and pulling him aside. "I'm going to make my move tonight."

"And? What do you need Alex for?" Jason asks.

"He is friends with Rebecca," he explains cooly.

"_You_ are friends with Rebecca. She's been trying to get with him since the seventh grade, and that's what you can't stand. They're not friends. So go ahead and make your move. You'll be doing him a favor."

Bob loses his grip and watches as Jason walks in, leaving him looking as clueless as ever.

"So, you're not going? I thought we were," Jason asks as soon as he joins Alex.

"I changed my mind, Jason. You can go. What's the big deal, anyway? If I want to get drunk, I can do that at home, and not even that sounds appetizing."

"I hear ya'," he didn't get why Alex was behaving this way. "You good, man?"

But Alex ignores him, for he had found Norma again, locating her at the same secluded corner, close to the cabinets and away from everyone else. He finds it peculiar the way she sits there, as if not afraid of the outside world or what may come crashing down before her eyes. She looks like she has it all figured out, and that fascinates him.

His dark eyes quickly study her posture, and he smirks a little. Norma's legs are crossed, and her right foot dangles smoothly, although she sways it from time to time. Her glasses rest low on her nose, and he spots her eyelashes wafting away as she blinks and her blue eyes scan the papers beneath.

"Romero," Jason's voice sounds like an echo, but it fails to break Alex's gaze.

Alex begins reminiscing about the phenomenal aquamarine of her eyes and how that tiny smile she had granted him had nearly melted him into a puddle of nothing. Again, that little shake of her leg tells him she's anxious or nervous about something.

Jason witnesses the kind way Alex extends to openly examine the new girl once more, and it's more manageable for him to resolve this strange but apparent dilemma.

"Go talk to her," Jason spits proudly. "You're going to scare her off before you know it if you keep it up. Girls don't like it when people stare. Well, no one does, but girls tend to complicate things and make a big deal out of nothing."

This caught Alex's attention immediately. He had forgotten to mention to his best friend that he has an art class with this eccentric girl. And that they are partners. And that her name is Norma. And that his favorite color was no longer red but the blue of her eyes.

It wasn't like him to keep stuff to himself and not tell Jason. They have been friends since the fourth grade, and ever since, they have been inseparable. They knew each other pretty well and talked about anything, but he kept Norma for himself, and it worried him a little.

And when Alex worries about something, it usually means disturbance. Trouble in the sense of getting his feelings involved. It happened with his dad, and it happened when his mom relapsed. He is a teenage boy, a popular jock. His priorities are getting good grades and being the most trustworthy quarterback in the field on Friday nights, after the pep rallies and during football games. He had nothing to worry about. His life wasn't as complicated, for the most part. He shouldn't suffer. But when he does, he knows his heart is involved.

Although he recognizes that he can talk to Jason about anything, bringing up the situation with his dad and mom was always a hurdle. He finds himself intrigued at the insignificant idea of not wanting to bring Norma's name up in a casual conversation. Something inside of him awakens every time he thinks of her, that alone lets him know that speaking about her won't be as simple as he thinks.

The reality of it all is that he's never felt this way before. He doesn't even know what _this_ is. He has not so much heard her voice just yet, and she's already driving him crazy. Is this what having a crush is like? Is this what every single girl of this school feels like every time he walks by? As the popular guy in school, he has had to deal with younger girls following him everywhere. The act pesters him. And yet, here he is. Wishing to hear this girl's voice, wanting her attention more than anything else. Here he is, already obsessed with this reserved and unique girl.

"Class is about to start," he finally says. "Turn your ass around."

Jason catches a glimpse of his smile and chortles, getting down from the desk and taking his seat facing away from him.

The empty classroom it's now charged with its typical chaos. Mr. Mullier is currently relaxing at his desk, sipping on his stained cup of black coffee, scrutinizing the teenagers with no optimism. It's only the second day of school, and he has given up on trying to control these wild and uncanny students.

Trigonometry stopped being a difficult subject for Alex around sophomore year. He got the hang of it, and after a couple of after-school tutoring sessions, that confusing soup of letters and numbers started to make sense. It wasn't hard to focus after his brain caught up with solving the issues correctly and promptly. It wasn't hard. But it is now. He can hardly concentrate when Norma is sitting four desks down, being a more significant distraction.

Throughout the class, Alex keeps glancing at Norma regularly, but he never meets her eyes. Her gorgeous blue eyes were fixed to Mr. Mullier, and she did not fumble the opportunity of writing down almost every syllable that would come out of his mouth.

Alex tries to copy her pattern and listens to the teacher's raving but maintains his eyes glued to her, watching and waiting for her to scribble something down on her notepad so that he could do the same. She is a brilliant girl, and if she was going to serve him as such a pleasant distraction, he figured he'd put good use to it.

'_Look this way_,' he wishes for the hundredth time. '_Look at me_.'

The craving of meeting her eyes is draining his spirit to no avail, and he sighs in mild distress. Since when is such an innocent act so necessary to him? He just wants her to know that he is there. Their eyes met for a second the day before, so it's evident that she knows they have first period together. But why isn't she looking his way? Is she going to talk to him today? Is she going to ignore him? Should he approach her and make his presence known?

All of this bothers him and makes him feel uneasy. He's exaggerating, right? That's what happens when you have a crush? Is he crushing on Norma? It's too soon to tell, isn't it? How would he know what any of this means if he can't even talk to his best friend about it?

It wasn't a disgrace. He's not embarrassed by what Jason would think if he talks to him about Norma. That's not the deal here, and that's why it bothered him so much. But he's trying to figure out what he's feeling before exposing his heart out to his best friend about a girl that hasn't even spoken to him just yet.

But Norma never lifted her gaze other than to write down what Mr. Mullier was scrawling on the board. It was almost as if she was wearing a blinder, the ones used on horses to prevent them from seeing to the rear end and, in most cases, to the side. She was so focused and determined that Alex had no choice but to value that.

Homework was assigned, and the class immediately manifested little to no interest in the matter, except for Norma. Alex glanced away from her before Jason had the opportunity to catch him staring once more.

"This blows," he sighs and seizes his backpack, unzipping it and tossing in it his binder and pens.

"What?" Alex questions.

"Homework? It's only the second day."

"And we'll have homework on the third and fourth day, too," he says smartly. "Make sure you're doing it. I don't need you to get kicked out of the team. We have our first game Friday night."

"I'm not trying to get dragged up and down the freaking field in front of everyone, man," Jason recalls on the threat his mother had made regarding his behavior and grades. "You know my mom is a savage. She's not playing when she tells me shit like that."

"Oh, I know she's not," Alex chuckles and gathers his things. "I think it's obvious who's the boss."

Jason laughs, and before he has time to say anything else, Rebecca approaches them.

"I hear you're not going to be joining us tonight, Alex?" her voice reflecting false sadness.

"You heard right," he says stoically and stands, facing away from Rebecca. "Have fun."

Rebecca's snarky comeback gets cut off by the bell's shrill ring, dismissing everyone from class. When he looks towards Norma's desk, she was already gone.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to portray and focus on Alex's feelings more than anything in this chapter. Hope it all made sense. Stay safe, loves. **

**Xx**


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